Personal Coping Mechanism

I asked Tony, a coworker, what he used to cope with pressure day to day as we poured our respective cups of coffee one morning not long ago.
"Aahh yes." said Tony, whilst popping a coffee bean into his mouth and gesturing to the very act and nodding his head.
"Seriously? Why do you eat coffee beans?" I responded. With the same tone and look he used to tell me that the creamer was behind the stack of foam cups he said "I started eating them after the night I almost shot four people."
In that instant I knew we were about to step out of the morning we were standing in and into a memory of a night some time long ago that would negate the purpose of knowing "why".

Thus spoke Tony:
"While I was on patrol, alone, eight years ago I came upon an all too familiar sight; two men fighting. The tussle was taking place near a parked car on the side road not far from the highway. I pulled over behind the car and hit the lights to advertising my arrival. The two men continued to grapple with each as made my radio call. Before I could finish my call over the radio another car flew in from the left, hit the curb, jumping into the grass. Immediately a man stepped out of the recently wrecked car and started to slap his chest while flinging his arms out in what looked like a "come on" challenge.
I opened my door to get out and start the "get on the ground" bark when yet another car coolly pulled in not ten feet behind me. My foot paused on the rim of my police car door frame as I looked through the mirrors at this new arrival. The occupant was visible as the driver's side door opened but then the head disappeared and the passenger door opened instead. I saw the top of the driver's head moving through the car to the opposite side.My stomach dropped to the depths of my body. My foot still hung in the air awaiting instructions to hit the ground or retreat back in to the police car. My eyes were jumping from window to mirror back and forth about four times a second. All moisture in my mouth evaporated with the heat rising dangerously in my face.
I began to squeeze the trigger of the radio mic still in my hand and with as much control as frenzy would allow I yelled "Get me some backup now! Surrounded. Can't get out of my car without losing cover."
Meanwhile the two guys fighting by the car have now stopped and are making manuevers to move out of my sight.
The guy who hit the curb and came to rest in the grass is still standing there making the "Bring it!" motions when suddenly he starts reaching down the top of his shirt for something that shines metallic. I jump out the door and land on my knees yelling to the guy to "STOP" while I pull my gun. Now, spinning on my knees trying to cover everyone, I make demands that nobody move.
One of the fighters is starting to fade from view and I make another announcement for everyone to stop immediately, this time louder and with all the "ominous" I had left in my voice box.
My finger is moving off and on the trigger as I turn to my extreme left to motion at the person with my gun who is now hiding behind their passenger side door. I yell something about stand where I can see you or get back in the car, I can't remember. Sweat is running into my eyes and my heart is racing. I can't see what the person hiding behind that passenger side door has...what they are doing...and they don't seem to hear anything I am saying. I can just see the top of their head and shadows where I should see eyes. The sun has set behind them. Shadows are everywhere...not good.
The guy with his hand down his shirt is starting to move again.

"Not now. Not here." I thought to myself, rapidly. Chanting.

"Don't let me die alone. Don't make me kill someone.", slowly.

Minutes. mere minutes.That's all the time this encapsulated.
Someone could have painted this scene on canvas with the time I felt it was taking for backup to arrive.
Finally!, I could hear them coming. Distant wails getting closer. God bless the Doppler effect.
Cop cars zoomed in; even a fire truck made it to the scene.
My cavalry had arrived, the voice heard over the radio (mine) had scared everyone.
(editor's note - Tony is a large man. 6'5. 300 pounds of muscle and a little fat. A black man with a voice booming with authority.)

When the smoke cleared everything became a comedy of coincidences. To wit: the two guys had been fighting for sometime and were aquitances so nothing dramatic. The arm waving guy who hit the curb so hard was a drunk driver. He had seen my lights and thought it was all over and tried to pull himself over. Earlier that day he had been fighting with his girlfriend and decided to drink away some pain and the thing he was reaching for was one of those wallets on a chain. The car behind me turned out to be a woman that had driven by the two guys fighting and wanted to tell me about it, you know, be a witness and all that. When she pulled up behind me she thought it would make me less nervous to get out pf the passenger side to approach.
I had pulled a gun on everyone and no one knew what to do. Not even me.

My fireman friend wanted to calm me down afterwards so we went to a coffee shop nearby. He ordered us some coffees but my teeth were still chattering and I wanted something to clench my teeth on. As I was watching them grind the beans I thought to myself " I need something between my teeth to crunch on."
I really just wanted to stop the chattering. So I asked for a handful of roasted coffee beans which the Barista nonchalantly handed over and popped a few in my mouth. As I crushed them to bits and the sounds of an earthquake filled my head I started to feel better.
From that day on, I crunch on coffee beans."




There I stood having only asked my question in passing now storing away an indeliable memory.